


Heart Troubles

by quicksparrows



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An elderly Ezio grapples with how time has stolen more than just his body from him, and is comforted by his wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Troubles

_Firenze, 1523_

"Ezio?"

Ezio tore his eyes from the fireplace to look up at his wife. Sofia was standing at the base of the stairs, wrapped up in her housecoat, one hand on the bannister and the other drawn across her waist. She wore a worried look.

"Yes?" he said, after a delay.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked. "You've been down here for hours."

He gave a low "hmm", and nothing else. Sofia sighed and stepped off the last stair and crossed the floor to him, leaning over his shoulders to put her arms around his neck. Her cheek brushed his, and he nuzzled against her for a moment, one hand sliding up to rest on her forearm.

"I know when something's weighing heavy on your heart, caro mio," she murmured, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. "Come to bed. We'll talk."

He wasn't sure he was up to it, or even up to managing the stairs. His chest felt like it was in a vice, and he had to steel himself from wincing. It was difficult, growing old, and having to admit to the frailty of one's body; he had never really recovered from that horrible flu last winter, and some nights it haunted his lungs with a vengeance.

"Give me a moment, I'll come up soon," he said, finally, tensely. "I was just lost in thought, that's all."

Sofia frowned, letting go so she could circle him. He gave in to the urge to _cringe_ , one hand going to his chest, and he gave way into a coughing fit. Concern lighted up on her face and she immediately moved to brace his shoulders with her arm.

"Ezio, is your chest...?"

"It's more than thoughts that are weighing heavily on my heart," he admitted, and then grit his teeth for a moment.

"We can sleep in the guest bedroom tonight," she said, ever-prepared. Even he had to admit the first-floor bedroom was less daunting than the stairs. "You need rest." 

He nodded, slightly, and the pain was already subsiding a little. She left his side and disappeared into the hallway for a few minutes, presumably making up the bed. Ezio just sat in awkward silence, punctuating it with the odd cough and cringe. He was really getting older these days. Not that he'd ever felt ageless, but he felt he was hurtling towards death now, instead of merely flirting with it. 

That thought was sobering.

And then Sofia was back, offering her hands to him. When he hesitated, she went ahead and slid an arm under his, bracing his side. He went with it, standing up with only a bit of difficulty. He tried to avoid leaning his weight on her, but he didn't do a terribly good job of it. The stabbing pains in his chest kept his steps short, and his balance off. 

"It's gotten worse lately," she said, and Ezio got the impression that she said it largely because she knew he wouldn't admit it himself.

"Yes," he said, as she eased him down the hall and towards the guest room. "Much worse. At this rate I won't be able to finish the harvest."

"The workers can take care of it," Sofia said, pointedly. "What matters more is your health."

"Health I don't have," he replied. She helped him sit down on the edge of the bed and then sat down herself, fingers immediately moving to the buttons on his tunic. There was a clean shirt laid out already on the bed, and he felt a pang of shame at being changed by her. He moved to brush her hands away, a little bit more violently than he intended. "I can do it myself!"

Her beautiful face, already wracked with concern, twisted into a frown. Her hands were frozen where he'd shoved them. He stared at her a moment, then he deflated, his shoulders sagging. She let out a sigh and went back to unbuttoning his tunic.

"I know you're frustrated," she said, pausing to look at him and lean her face in close, forehead touching his for a moment. Her fingers resumed, and then slid along inside the shirt to push it off his shoulders, but Ezio shrugged it off himself, teeth still grit. His chest felt like it was seizing up every couple of breaths. "We'll talk about it in the morning, after you've been rested."

"I have to at least _help_ with the harvest," he insisted, ever-stubborn.

She reached to touch her fingers to his lips, silencing him. 

"Ezio, you need to rest. Please, mio caro. Don't push yourself so hard that death claims you too soon."

He could argue a million things, like how death had already tried to claim him hundreds of times, or that life had to go on around the villa regardless of his health, or that he couldn't bear to be "that old man" any longer, but Sofia held his gaze for a long moment, her fingers gently sliding off his lips. When it got to be too much, he closed his eyes, turning his face away. She waited.

"Of course I won't," he replied, and she helped him into the clean tunic and out of his pants. He stayed silent the entire time, save the odd grimace and hissed breath as his lungs seized, trying to ignore her concerned looks. He settled in bed, and Sofia dimmed the oil lamp and then moved so he could lay his head in her lap.

There was a tenseness, though perhaps Ezio was merely imagining it, because Sofia didn't seem to acknowledge it. His chest seemed to be settling, now that he was stretched out in bed. The silence stretched on, almost endlessly, and he could feel her watching him through the darkness, her fingers running idly through his hair. He could feel how worried she was, and knew she could tell that _he_ was worrying. They fed off of each other like that, but he supposed that's why they worked so well together. They knew each other intimately, and connected in a way they'd never shared with anyone else.

He worried about losing that.

"Sofia," he said, miserably. "I'm sorry."

Her hand passed over his forehead and through his hair, tousling it affectionately. He reached through the dark, his hand bumping against her side, and she took it with her other hand.

"For what, darling?"

"For everything," he said, staring up at her, just a faint outline in the darkness. "For snapping at your kindness, for being an old man when you are still young and beautiful, for..."

"Ezio, shh," she said, "No, amore mio, you don't need to apologize for such things."

"But I do," he replied, "If only I had met you earlier, Sofia."

"And you'd what? Give up your work, and not change the face of Italia, or rebuild the Order, or beat back the Templars in Konstantininyye? We both know you wouldn't have. We've had this conversation so many times. This is how things are now, love."

He felt a hot tear roll down the side of his face. She was right, but it didn't make him feel any better about having left so little of his life to his family.

"I used to worry that having a family would mean risking losing them," he whispered, finally. "I didn't know that my family losing me would be just as big of a risk. There are so many things I'll never see, Sofia... so many things I'll _miss..._ "

Sofia eased out from under his head to slide down alongside him, and she wrapped him in her arms. He wrapped an arm around her, too, and buried his face against her shoulder. Her hand ran up and down his back a few times before resting at the nape of his neck.

"Ezio," she said, soothingly. "Listen to me... we're not going anywhere. You needn't fear death when we're by your side."

He couldn't reply, finding himself too choked up, and she just pressed a kiss to the top of his head and continued holding him. His mind drifted off on the sea of her voice, and he just shook and wept while clinging to her as if she were his life raft.

It would all be fine, he heard her say, and as he drifted off to sleep, he believed it.

 

-x-

 

Ezio woke to the morning sun struggling to beam through the drapes, and when he turned his head to look for his wife, he found himself alone. He grumbled about it for a second, still half-asleep, and he rolled over and dragged the pillow over his head to better block out the sun. Falling back asleep was harder than it initially seemed, though, especially when a daughter-sized someone burst in and climbed onto the bed and over his shins.

"Flavia," he grumbled, under his pillow. "Get off."

There was a giggle in reply, but he felt the mattress shift as she moved back to the floor. It didn't stop her from reaching to tug on his sleeve, though.

Children.

"Mamma and Andrea are making breakfast," she announced. "Mamma said to tell you that it's your favourite."

"All of your mother's cooking is my favourite," he replied, still under the pillow. Rather, he was under the pillow until Flavia started tugging on that, too. He let her have it, though he lifted an arm to shield his eyes from the sun.

"I lied. It's not your favourite, it's your favourite-favourite," Flavia corrected herself. "Apple pastries."

Ezio pushed himself up onto one elbow, biting back a grimace as a pang in his chest bid him good morning. Flavia was standing near the headboard, pillow dumped unceremoniously on the floor. He watched her for a moment, and his general morning grouchiness melted away in favour of a smile.

"Well," he said to his daughter as he climbed out of bed. "Let's not keep her waiting."

"Good," Flavia announced, reaching to hold his hand. He closed his great big hand around hers, gently, and she looked up at him. "Did you sleep well, Papa?"

"Better than I expected," he said. "We have your mother to thank for that, too."

"Mamma takes good care of you," Flavia replied, holding his hand with both of hers as she led him to the door. 

"That's right," he said. He could see Sofia standing in the kitchen, through the doorway. Her sleeves were rolled up and her hair was done in yesterday's loose curls, and she looked like she hadn't slept a wink, but there was a smile on her face when she turned to meet his gaze.

He held that gaze for a moment, smiling.

"That's right," he repeated. "She does."


End file.
